


No More Farewells

by littleotter73



Series: The Salutation Series [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleotter73/pseuds/littleotter73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the fifth story in the Salutations Series. It takes place a little over a week after Buffy left for California. Buffy and Giles are each sent to Paris on separate matters for their jobs. Despite the difficulties between them, Buffy reaches out and Giles asks her to accompany him to the conference he is speaking at. The situation is delicate and Giles is determined to convince Buffy of his sincerity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Many thanks to the amazing il_mio_capitano for her encouragement and amazing editing skillz!  
> Disclaimer: Just for fun, not profit.

 

  
As he walked down the hall towards the restoration lab with three members of his staff, Rupert Giles’ mobile phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he answered, “Giles here.”

“What the hell is going on between you and my sister?”

“Dawn?” he asked, halting his progress. His colleagues looked at him and he motioned for them continue, mouthing, “I’ll catch you up,” before turning his attentions back to the caller.

“Yeah, it’s me. Look, whatever you are doing to Buffy, you need to just _stop._ ”

“Listen, Dawn, I am not at liberty to have this conversation at the moment.”

“Then find the liberty, Giles, because if you hang up, I swear, that’s the end of our friendship. For real! Don’t think I won’t do it.”

He knew her threat to be genuine. Dawn wasn’t one to bluff where Buffy was concerned. Despite her artificial origins, the bond between the sisters was very real. Their devotion to one another the strongest he'd ever known, with both willing to die for the other, and one actually having performed that feat.

“Alright, Dawn. Let me return to my office and I am all yours. Will you ring again in five minutes?”

“What are you doing at work so late on a Friday? I thought you guys clocked off early for a pint and a round of darts or something equally English.”

“Ha ha, I’ll have you know it’s only half four and there’s-“ He stopped himself short. “Does it matter?”

“Not especially,” Dawn replied testily. “I’ll call back in five. You better answer.”

Inwardly he thanked modern technology. She was unable to punctuate her displeasure by slamming down the receiver and leaving him with partial deafness in his left ear. Dawn hadn’t reached out to him in over six months despite him trying repeatedly to mend their friendship by pleading with her, bribing her with holidays to various European cities, and offering to spend copious amounts of time with her, but nothing had appeased her. She was furious with him, and he didn’t understand why… until now. Clearly she was upset with him because of his tumultuous relationship with her sister.

He closed the door to his office and sat down just as his mobile rang again. “Dawn?”

“Who else? You told me to call back, you big jerk.”

Ignoring her name calling, he asked, “How are you? How’s school?”

“Angry. And fine.”

“Listen, Dawn, I understand you are angry. Perhaps we could have a conversation without the yelling and you can tell me why.”

 _"Fine."_  She paused before unloading. “I've got a pretty good idea of what went on between you and Buffy last winter and I know that you keep hurting her. Fix it or let her go, or I swear on my mother’s lost grave that when I am there for Christmas I am going to unload a Summers sized apocalypse on you.”

“Did Buffy confide in you?”

“Does it matter?” she asked, but he remained quiet. “No, she didn’t. But I know you two did the horizontal tango in the desert. I couldn’t sleep so I took a walk in the middle of the night and I happened by your room. Let's just say the doors and walls were pretty thin at that motel.”

He blushed to his roots.

“When she told me she was going to see you after Christmas last year, she was so happy, Giles. I hadn’t heard such a lift in her voice in a long time. She was so excited. Then, when she returned to New York, she called me and I could hear how upset she was. She wouldn’t go into details about the trip or you, she just said everything was fine and that you were doing well, but I know you hurt her.

“And then you were such a colossal _asshole_ at the memorial and Buffy was so miserable, but she still had a job to do. She still had to remain professional. I watched her the whole time. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, and you were so distant and downright rude. I have never been so angry with you-”

“Dawn-“

“ _Shut up!_ I never thought I could be more angry with you until I saw my sister this week. And now I am downright _livid!_ ”

“Is she alright?” he asked tentatively.

“She says she’s fine, but she’s not, and only you can bring that kind of misery on her.”

Somehow, he doubted that. “Perhaps she looked up Angel while she was in LA,” he muttered petulantly.

“Giles, grow up! Jesus, who’s the teenager here? She’s in love with _you!_ The question is, are you in love with her?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Then make it that easy and stop with the big brooding angst!” Dawn yelled, her patience wearing thin. “Don’t you see? She doesn’t need another Angel! Look, I know you love her and if you don’t _do_ something, you are going to lose her altogether. And then I am going to have to hate you because you didn’t do anything to make it right.”

Taking off his glasses, Giles placed them down on his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dawn, I am not going to discuss my relationship with Buffy with you. I’m sorry. It’s just not appropriate. I appreciate your insight and that you would protect her so ferociously, but this matter is between me and your sister. I wish you wouldn’t take sides. I’ve always considered us to be family.”

“She’s _my_ _sister_ , of course I am going to take her side.”

“Very well,” he gave in. “All I am going to tell you is that we talked before she left for California and she has a decision to make. There is nothing I can do. But stay out of it, Dawn, please, I ask you as your friend.”

“Well, without knowing specifics, I wouldn’t know what to say, but she’s not here anymore, so don’t worry, there is nothing I can interfere with,” Dawn said with a tired resignation. She hadn’t slept most of the night, her frustration with her sister’s continued sadness taking up more than a few brain cells. When the sun finally rose, she decided to do something about it and calling Giles to confront the big jerk seemed like a good idea at the time.

“She’s not? I thought she would be there through next week.”

“Yeah, so did I, but she got a call from Xander yesterday and had to leave for some emergency summit or something.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, sucks. Dad was supposed to leave to go back to LA today and Buffy and I were going to go sightseeing and shopping in San Francisco during the fall break.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. On the plus side, Dad is going to stay through the weekend to make up for it. I’ll make him take me shopping. He hates that. Usually he just sends me on my own with his credit card.” She laughed and he could hear that she quite as angry anymore.

“I am sure he truly doesn’t mind,” Giles answered with a bit of envy. He wasn’t a fan of shopping either, but he missed spending time with Dawn and he figured Hank probably did too.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she sniffed. “But I’m still mad.”

“It’s understandable. I am sorry too,” he paused. “Dawn, regardless of what transpires between your sister and me, I’d like us to remain friends.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, too. I hate being mad at you.”

“I hate you being mad at me too.”

“Giles, seriously, don’t screw this up. You know Buffy is Action Girl. Lay off the excuses and be Action Guy. _Do something!”_ Dawn’s concern rang loud and clear.

“Dawn…” His voice held a note of reproach, but then he thought better. “I will do my best.

“I gotta go, Giles, I have to meet dad for breakfast and I need to hit the shower and make myself pretty first.”

“You’re already pretty, Dawn, but I am very familiar with how long it takes for the Summers women to get ready.”

“Hey! I’m faster than Buffy,” she protested, her good humor restored.

Giles gave a little chuckle. “It is really good hearing your voice, Dawn.”

“Yeah? Even though I yelled at you?”

“It’s better than the silent treatment you’ve been giving me.”

“I didn’t like that either. I will call again soon, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“And, Giles?”

“Yes?”

“I hope everything works out,” she said right before hanging up. Dawn had a habit of not saying goodbye. It was too final for her. She’d said goodbye to too many people she’d loved in her young life and she refused to say it anymore, opting for “see you later” if she said anything at all.

Giles stared down at his phone and whispered, “Me too, Dawn, me too.”

A knock sounded at his door and startled him out of his reverie.

“Do you have a moment, Rupert?” the director of the museum asked as he peeked into the office.

“Sir John, yes, please, come in. What can I do for you?” Giles asked as his boss entered his office.

The older man sat down in the chair opposite Giles and crossed his legs. “We have a slight problem.”

“Oh?” Giles asked as he settled back in his chair.

“Yes, you see Allison Maynard was supposed to present at the conference in Paris later this week, but she has taken ill. I know you’ve been working on your own presentation regarding artifact preservation for a future conference. Is there any way you would be able to present that paper next Thursday evening?”

“Sir John, my conference is six months away. I’ve only gotten through the outline and maybe the first three sections. Perhaps David or Alex could present?”

“David is a wonderful colleague, Rupert, but have you ever heard him speak? He’s positively dreadful. We can’t bore the audience to death. And Alex’s lecture series tend to be more intimate affairs as her material is extremely focused,” the older man explained.

“I see. Could perhaps one of Allison’s staff present for her?”

“I did give that some thought, but we need someone with more seniority, with more gravitas and experience to present. Someone to represent the V&A amongst the most prestigious academics in our field.”

“I appreciate the confidence, Sir John, however, I haven’t presented a proper paper in almost ten years,” Giles protested.

“All the more reason to get you back out into the community, my boy. Now I won’t hear another word about it. My office will provide you with your tickets, hotel booking, and itinerary. You leave on Wednesday.”

“Of course,” he relented, knowing there was no way to change his boss’ mind. “I’ll send you a copy Sunday afternoon for approval.”

“Good man. I look forward to it. That should give us enough time to make any necessary changes and send it on to the Louvre before Monday close of business to ensure they include you in the program.”

Sir John left his office and Giles stared at his to-do list. It was time to delegate and reprioritize his current list of projects, and then spend the rest of the night working on his presentation. It certainly beat brooding over what Dawn had to say about his situation with Buffy, even though she was the center of his focus these days. Not an unwelcome distraction, but a distraction he could ill afford with such a preposterous deadline imposed upon him.

It would prove to be a long weekend, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy sat in her hotel suite staring at her cell phone. It had been a long two days. The flight from San Francisco to Paris obviously hadn't been part of her original itinerary when she had booked the trip to visit her dad and sister in California. Somewhere along the way, the airline had lost her luggage and when she had finally arrived in France, she’d been met by a French driver who didn’t speak English. On the plus side, the French government had given her the best suite in the top hotel, and even if she had absolutely nothing to hang up in the walk in closets, there was at least a wine and cheese basket to enjoy along with a copy of the agenda for the upcoming summit.

France had a demon problem - especially in the larger cities like Paris and Marseilles - and they were looking for a way to deal with the problem without overt involvement. Buffy could provide a solution with her army of willing Slayers and their Watchers. France wanted that solution, but on their terms, naturally.

Now that there wasn’t just one Slayer in the world who guarded a hellmouth, local populations in other countries didn’t have to solve their own vampire and demon issues. The world was truly becoming a safer place. In some countries it was easier having a team or two secretly living amongst the population and quietly taking care of the local demon infestation. However, the problem in France was such that it had garnered the attention of the government, and government involvement meant egos and politics.

She looked out the window, unable to conjure up the excitement that being in The City of Light should. She’d never been to Paris before and it had never really occurred to her that she might visit one day… not before the Hellmouth closed, anyway. But in her dreams, she’d always imagined exploring the city with a lover - Paris having that reputation and all - not acting as a diplomat and representing the Council before the Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of the Interior to broker a deal to bring the country’s demon population under control.

Buffy wasn’t quite sure how she’d manage. She wasn’t politically savvy. In fact, she pretty much spoke from the hip and told things how they were. From her first impressions, she sensed that probably wasn’t the French way of doing things.

She sighed and looked down at her phone again. She owed Giles a call. He needed to know that she wouldn’t be back until the weekend... should all go well. She still had no idea what she wanted to do about him… about them. He’d confessed his love for her, that was true, but there was so much more to their relationship than just being lovers, and Buffy didn’t feel confident that she would be able to separate them out and be friends and partners in the fight against the darkness should things not work out between them. She just wasn’t sure she could survive another heartbreak.

Blinking away her brown study, Buffy looked at the clock by the bed. It was nearly eight in the evening. He was probably out, grabbing a bite to eat. She needed to venture out and find some food too. The concierge had recommended a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away, and she had to admit she was starving.

A knock at the door brought a porter there with her recovered luggage. Her mood definitely brightened at the sight of her suitcases. She hadn’t fancied hand washing her delicates in the sink and leaving them to dry overnight, nor wearing the same clothes she had worn earlier again the next day.

Things were looking up.

Smiling, she promised herself she’d call Giles later.

—————

Having completed a very rough draft of his presentation an hour before the museum closed, Giles decided to go home and get cleaned up. He'd spent the previous night at his desk and he had plans to meet Xander at a pub for dinner and a pint that evening. A few hours distraction was exactly what he needed before returning to the museum and working to polish his presentation.

“Hey, man! You’re looking good.” Xander greeted, finding Giles at a table near the back of the pub.

Giles stood and pulled his old friend into a bear hug. “You are looking good yourself, Xander.” When the men pulled apart, they sat at the table and Giles apologized. “Too much time has passed since we were together last… and on congenial terms. I’m ready to rectify that.”

“You know, you could’ve condensed that down to “long time no see, sorry for being a hermit,” Xander teased.

“Yes, but then you’d know I'd been abducted by aliens and replaced with an automaton,” Giles replied dryly.

“Someone has been watching old episodes of _Doctor Who,”_ the younger man teased and Giles shared his smile.

“Can I get you a pint while you look over the menu?”

“Sure. Whatever you think is good. I’m still acclimating to the concept of warm beer.”

“It's hardly warm. It’s just not…” He tried thinking of a proper word, but gave up and added, “Frosty.”

“Whatever. Go order the foamy goodness.”

During dinner Giles and Xander caught up on each other’s lives and fell back into an easy friendship. The older man listened as Xander talked. He seemed to have found his purpose in the Council as Buffy’s right hand man. He’d also found a quieter strength and an inner peace. Xander had accepted Anya's death and had come to terms with the loss of his estranged parents. The change of scenery had done him some good, he said, and he’d fallen in love with London and all her charms.

“So, regular movie nights. My place. We should start them up again. I’ve hosted one or two at my place with Buffy and Willow. Andrew tagged along once, but after he talked through the entire movie and gave away spoilers, we banned him. It sort of hurt his feelings so we promised to go to the movie theater with him for first run movies.”

Giles laughed. “He’s still the menace.”

“He’s actually mellowing out a bit now that he knows we’re not going to abandon him or throw him into the Thames,” Xander said with a broad smile.

“I was told you have quite the set up at your place.”

“Yeah. I figured: why not splurge? I have the extra room and a steady, well paying job.”

“Why not indeed. Set up the first viewing then. I look forward to it!” Giles said as he raised his glass in salute.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, drinking their beers before Xander braved the subject, “So, uh, when are you going to ask me about Buffy?”

Giles nearly choked on his beer. “Excuse me?”

“It’s obvious things aren’t great between you two, which is why I figured you'd gone all hermit like after turning down her job offer and then taking that really fancy job at the V&A, but I thought you would at least ask about her.”

Carefully placing his glass down on the table, Giles decided the best course was to deflect. “Dawn tells me you sent Buffy on an emergency trip somewhere.”

“Dawn’s speaking to you now?” Xander asked with shock. “Must be a cold day in hell.”

Giles shot him a glare. “Never could keep a secret from you lot! Yes we are speaking… as of yesterday afternoon.”

“Good. And yes, I sent Buffy to Paris. The French government is interested in partnering with us. Seems they are knee deep in demon troubles and are looking for a more covert way of reducing the number of baddies rather than sending in their military or their national police force.”

“Can't blame them,” he answered, but his mind inevitably went to the fact that Buffy was in Paris. Perhaps they could meet up should time allow, of course.

“No,” Xander agreed and Giles returned his attention to his friend. “Ordinarily we’d just send a team in, but this looks to be a large scale operation with several campaign fronts in the major cities.”

“Any apocalyptic signs?” Giles asked with worry.

“Not that we could find. We had our ace researchers looking into that.”

“Odd… but good.”

“I’ll drink to that. 'Odd, but good.'” They raised their glasses and touched them together before Xander said, “She's good, you know, really good at the whole running the Council thing.” Giles nodded. “And she’s doing well personally. She misses you, though, I can tell.”

“I miss her too, Xander. I am sure everything will work itself out,” he reassured his friend, though he wasn’t entirely convinced of that himself. Buffy loved him, he knew, but she didn’t trust him. She loved Angel too, once, but she couldn't trust him, nor could she trust herself around him. Giles hated comparing himself to a one-time vicious killer, but in the end, it boiled down to trust, and she had listed that as a reason for them to not be together.

“Well, if you want some advice,” Xander started helpfully. "Don’t be all Action Guy.”

Giles blinked owlishly. “Don’t be Action Guy?” That was in direct contradiction of Dawn’s instructions.

“I’m just kinda thinking. Angel, Riley, Spike… they were all take charge and make decisions for her. And I think with Buffy, you just kinda… need to show her and let her work it through.”

“Show her what, exactly?” he asked carefully, picking up that his friend had included him in Buffy’s list of ex-lovers. Did Xander know about his affair with Buffy too? Just how thin were the walls of that damned motel?

“You know, your sincerity. That you want to be friends again. That’s all,” Xander explained with a smile. “She’ll come around.”

“Well, if she doesn’t, it will make our movie nights awkward.”

“Nah, it won’t,” Xander countered. “We’ll just invite Andrew back and you two can bond over deciding his fate for talking through the film.”

“Hanging's too good for an offense like that,” Giles quipped, ending the discussion. He thought about telling his friend he would be in Paris later in the week, but decided against it. It would just invite more discussion on how he could mend his relationship with Buffy and he just didn’t feel it was appropriate to discuss their relationship with anyone.

After finishing the last of his pint, Xander replied, “I couldn’t agree more.”


	3. Chapter 3

After saying goodbye to his friend, Giles headed back to the museum. He found it interesting that both Xander and Dawn had told him to keep things simple, to demonstrate his sincerity, albeit in different ways. He shook his head. It was something he would need to think through, but first he had to focus and finalize his presentation for the conference.

Upon sitting at his desk and checking his email, he spent the next several hours revising his outline and making necessary changes and edits to his presentation before falling asleep at his desk. The raucously cheery tune of his mobile startled him out of his slumber and as he rose from his ‘pillow’ of papers, one stuck to his cheek and he pulled it off in consternation as he reached for his phone.

“Giles here,” he answered gruffly.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Buffy replied with amusement. After eight years, she’d know his ‘I just woke up’ voice anywhere. Lord knows she had caught him asleep at the research table often enough after a long night of scouring books trying to find information on how to kill a demon or information on some prophecy for her.

“Buffy,” he managed around the grogginess. “Dear lord, what time is it? I-I mean how are you?”

She let out a little chuckle. “It’s just after seven in the morning your time. I’m fine, just not in California anymore.”

“Ah, yes, I had dinner with Xander last night. He told me he sent you to Paris.”

“He did. Did you have a good time catching up?”

“Yes, and we have plans for the first official Scooby movie night for when you return. He will make sure Willow is on board.”

“I can’t wait!” Buffy declared with obvious pleasure.

“How are you liking Paris?”

“From what little I’ve seen, it’s beautiful. Unfortunately I’m stuck inside a government building twelve hours or more a day with a bunch of politicians who don't understand the words negotiation and collaboration.” Buffy sighed as she sat down on her bed and looked out the window. “I do have a gorgeous view of the Eiffel Tower from my hotel room, though.”

“Hopefully you will have some time to explore the city,” he said with a small smile.

“Hopefully,” she agreed, trying not to think of romantic evening walks along the Seine under the Parisian lights with him .

Having exhausted that line of conversation, Giles changed the subject. “So, uh, your sister phoned the other day, breaking her silence so she could yell at me.”

Buffy let out a little chuckle. “Are you properly chastened now?”

“We’ve come to an understanding and we are on the mend.”

“I’m glad,” she replied sincerely. “We had a little chat while I was there. By the time I left, she was still undecided as to whether she should forgive you.”

“Thank you for the intervention,” he said softly, though he was fairly certain it wasn’t her talk that led to Dawn’s capitulation.

“Glad to help,” she answered cheerily.

“Well it is appreciated, for what it is worth.” He knew their conversation was wrapping up, but he was loathe to say goodbye just yet. “Buffy,” he started with a little trepidation, not sure whether he should even bring the subject up.

“Yes?”

“I am not sure when you will be home, but I will be arriving in Paris Wednesday morning. If… if you are still there…” Giles stopped to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t been this nervous in a long time. “You see, I am attending a conference… and I-I’m giving a presentation at the École du Louvre the following evening.”

“The Louvre? That’s great, Giles!” she beamed, happy for his success. She knew it was an honor to be chosen to present at these conferences.

“Thank you! If you are… if you happen to be free, I’d be honored if you would accompany me as my guest for the evening. Th-There is a reception that follows. My boss neglected to tell me that I would be the keynote speaker. O-of course, the subject matter is a bit dry-”

“Giles,” she interrupted, knowing she shouldn’t accept his invitation, that it probably wasn’t a good idea, but hearing him stutter and babble his way through it warmed her heart.

“Yes?” He tried to calm the pounding in his chest. Why would she want to attend such a stuffy event? If she had any free time, she would want to explore the city.

“I’d be delighted to be your guest.”

He sat there speechless for a moment, not trusting his good fortune. “Thank you,” he finally replied softly.

She shook her head and added regretfully, “But I can’t guarantee that I will be able to come,” she said. “If I can convince my French colleagues that it’s not their way or the Champs Élysée when it comes to  _ my  _ Slayers and Watchers, and come to an agreement on how to do business, then I will be there. If not, it will be a late night and no doubt another day in the trenches on Friday.”

“I am sure you will have them towing the line in short order.”

“I wish I had your confidence in me,” she said with a sigh. “I’m no diplomat.”

Giles heard the doubt in her voice and sought to reassure her. “No, you aren’t,” he agreed genially. “You are the highly successful CEO of a large international organization and your success is rooted in instinct and past experience. Now you are dealing with two government agencies that are used to handling things internally, and yet they know they need help from the outside. Follow your instincts and I know you will come out of the deal with the upper hand. You’ve proven yourself time and again.”

“Right. I should trust my gut!” Buffy agreed with false confidence. “Though sometimes I think you have too much faith in me,” she said sadly.

“Buffy, I have witnessed most of your successes and your… not so successful ventures over the last eight years. You have learnt from past mistakes and you have applied those lessons, coming out stronger for it. You wouldn’t be where you are today if that weren’t the case.”

“I know you’re right. I can do this. I’m just… tired,” she admitted. It had been a long couple days of tough talks with a new round starting in less than an hour and she hadn’t really had time to recover from the jet lag, not to mention the emotionally draining days following the last encounter she had with Giles.

“So… should I email my agenda to Alan?”

“Nah, just send it directly to me. Fancy dress?”

“A dress certainly. It’s not a black tie affair, but it is an excuse for historians, archaeologists, and preservationists to look smart.”

“A time to change the dusty khakis and hang up the tweed?” Buffy bantered.

“Most certainly.”

“Ooo, I’ve been looking for an excuse to dress up all girly. I found the perfect dress when I was in LA. It might turn an academic head or two,” she teased in an almost sing song manner, hoping to pique his interest before realizing she was flirting again.

She inwardly swore at herself. What was it about him that disarmed her so? That made her forget that she was supposed to be guarding her heart? That she was supposed to be aloof and mulling over her decision as to whether to give their relationship a chance?

“Oh yes?” Giles asked, his voice growing husky. “Do tell.”

“Nope. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” Oh well, she was flirting.

“Perhaps just a hint?” he flirted back with a hint of amusement in his tone. “So I know how to find you in the sea of scholars attending the talk?”

Buffy was sure that if they were in the same room, she would see his green eyes sparkle mischievously.

“I’ll be the one who isn’t the scholar,” she responded with a laugh. Suddenly the room phone rang and she gave a sigh of resignation. “That’s my cue. The car is here to pick me up for the day.”

“How disappointing,” Giles lamented at the end of their little game, though he did try valiantly to make her ignore the call. “Not even a little hint?”

She smiled, knowing he was as disappointed as she was with the interruption. “Looks like I’ll just have to surprise you.”

“Fine, but if I mistake you for Doctor Feinstein, it will be entirely your own fault!” he huffed playfully.

“If she’s short and blonde you may have an issue.”

“He’s six foot three, stout, balding, and sports a goatee.”

“You are so in trouble, Mister Giles!”

“That’s  _ Doctor _ Giles,” he corrected with amusement, but then he turned serious. “It was good hearing from you, Buffy, thank you for the call. Should you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

“Bye, Giles, and thank you.” She hung up and answered the hotel phone. It was indeed the driver. Grabbing her purse, she headed down to the lobby where he waited, bemused at how she could be taken in by Giles so easily and berating herself for it, yet she couldn’t help but smile at the anticipation of seeing him again.

Giles sat staring at his phone for several moments after he hung up. From his conversation with Dawn the other day, that was not the type of call he was expecting from Buffy - not one that had her accepting an evening out, nor one in which she outright flirted with him. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He had hope. And an idea started to form in his head on what he would do to prove himself and win her heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Buffy stood up, stretched, and walked to the window overlooking the courtyard below while her hosts deliberated in rapid French. The translator they provided her had steadfastly refused to fill her in on the heated debate going on amongst the group. She thought she heard them talking about croissants, but then realized it could’ve been something about the number four - quatre - she had no clue. High school French certainly hadn’t prepared her for this.

Folding her arms around her, she watched the raindrops form concentric circles as they hit the puddles below. It was a dank, cold day and the huge 18th century building with its high airy ceilings and large, full length windows did nothing to keep the heat in. Ornate and opulent and impressive though everything was, she wished for a warmer and less imposing setting.

It was Wednesday. She had been negotiating for five days and they were still no closer to an agreement. She wanted to help, but not at the expense of giving control of her Slayers and Watchers over to a foreign authority. That was unacceptable, especially in light of the Slayer to Watcher ratio - the new and fragile relationships between them still needing to grow and gain mutual trust and respect without having additional and possibly conflicting orders barked at them from outsiders.

And as her mind mulled over the term Watcher, her thoughts naturally shifted to Giles. He should have arrived in the city earlier that morning for his conference. Since her French colleagues were still deliberating, she wandered back to her table and rifled through her briefcase, pulling out the information he had sent her for the following evening. Giles was scheduled as the last guest speaker of the evening before the president of the Louvre gave his closing remarks and the celebratory reception began.

The conversation between the members of the warring ministries started to heat up, getting louder and with angry gesticulating, and she sighed inwardly, placing the papers back in her case. She probably wasn’t going to get to go to the conference, and as much as she was looking forward to seeing Giles again - to hear him speak - there were so many conflicting feelings surrounding him that it was probably for the best. Having had a few days to distance herself from the situation after their last conversation, she realized she had been right. She couldn’t trust herself around him. She’d allowed herself to flirt with him, further opening her heart to potentially more hurt. It all needed to stop. Well… maybe they just needed to set some hard limits because she loved his advice, his absolute faith in her abilities, and to hear him profess his faith in her, because she doubted herself at times, especially in this new role she’d placed herself in.

Buffy ran a hand through her long hair and conceded that they needed to have a serious conversation. Yes, they needed to set those limits and figure out how to navigate through it all and be friends again. And she needed to be a friend and find a way to be at the Louvre to support him during this very important time in his life.

Needing some air and time to think, Buffy gathered her things and stood up. She’d had enough of the posturing of her French counterparts and the infighting between them. Nothing was being accomplished and she really had better things to do than sit and watch their shenanigans. When she reached the door, the lead negotiator for the Ministry of Defense asked, “Mademoiselle, where are you going?”

Buffy turned around and shrugged. “Shopping, sightseeing, perhaps having a coffee while sitting along the Seine and watching the boats go by, I don’t know. But right now, you are wasting my time. You have a problem. A very  _ big  _ problem endangering your citizens. I have the resources you need. When you come to grips with the fact that I can fix your problem and all I need is the authorization to go in and clean it up without interference, call me on my mobile. Oh, and if you can’t or won’t make that happen, then let me know so I can go home. I have a large organization to run.” With that, she pushed through the huge, ornate doors and let herself out.

—————

It felt rather liberating walking out of the meeting holding all the cards. Of course, potentially losing a huge client like the French government would be a big blow and would possibly result in Xander falling into an apoplectic fit, but there had been no guarantee they were going to play ball from the start. She supposed she should call him and let him know of the latest development, but she was enjoying the peace and quiet at the moment and wasn’t going to let anything kill her buzz.

The rain had stopped and the sun had broken through the clouds, creating an ethereal shimmer amongst the buildings and along the pavement. Having walked the two blocks down to the Seine, Buffy grabbed a ham and cheese baguette and coffee from a street vendor and placed a dry newspaper down on a bench before sitting down along the riverfront. Across the river stood the Tuileries Gardens and the Louvre. Giles would be there by now, attending lectures and schmoozing with the big academics in his field.

The familiar ache in her chest grew at the thought of him. Before she’d left for California, she’d made the decision that perhaps it was best if they stay friends and let some time pass before seeing each other again - to allow the wounds to heal. But Giles had asked her to take some time to think about their relationship while she was away, professing his love for her, fighting for a chance to make things work between them. And she’d promised him she would.

The sex had been incredible - the heightened emotions, the urgent need to be together... though the aftermath had been one of her lowest points in quite a while. And while she tried desperately to put on a happy face and spend some quality time with her sister, even advocating for her to make up with Giles, Buffy knew that Dawn knew something wasn’t right. Even their father had noticed Buffy’s dour mood, often commenting on it, trying to get her to open up. And he was just about the last person she would tell something so confidential and so important to.

She took a sip of warm coffee and adjusted the collar of her coat to ward herself from the damp chill in the air as November heralded the cold, wet weather of late autumn. At least the sun still shone. Her phone rang and she sighed deeply. It was probably someone from the meeting she’d just left calling to berate her for leaving and asking her back to the meeting room to continue negotiations.

“Buffy Summers,” she answered.

“So where are you and what did they do to piss you off to leave?” Xander asked in a sympathetic tone.

“What? Xand? How did you know?”

“Got a call from a very irate underling of one of the ministers asking me to intercede on their behalf. You know, trying to circumnavigate the chain of command. If you don’t get somewhere with mom, ask dad, right?” Xander explained as Buffy huffed indignantly. “I told them I couldn’t be of any help. Not my department. Anyway, not sure whether it was Defense or Interior. Doesn’t matter. You okay?”

“Yeah. I just got fed up. They isolated me in the room by speaking French amongst themselves and getting huffy with one another. I told them to stop wasting my time and come to a decision. We have what they need and they need to decide whether to let us do what we need to do or find a different way of dealing with their problem, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I am sure they’ll cool down and come to their senses.”

“I hope so. I thought you’d be less cool about this.”

“I’ve seen you in action, Buffy. You took the previous Council clowns down a notch. I am sure these bloviating bureaucrats need the same type of treatment.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I needed that.”

“That’s what friends are for. So uh, speaking of friends, I had dinner with Giles the other night.”

“Smooth,” Buffy commented with amusement.

“Liked that transition, did you?”

“How is he?” she asked with what she hoped was an air of indifference.

“Good. We talked about his new gig and how that’s going, which is really good, by the way.” He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so he he continued, “We also talked about starting up movie nights at my place, but, you know, he’s kinda worried about how you’ll react with him there.”

“Did he say why?”

“I think it’s just hard for him, you know, with you guys not being so close at the moment,” Xander answered, and she was thankful that Giles hadn’t confided in him.

“He’s worrying for nothing. We’re both adults. I think we can handle a couple hours in the same room together without…” She trailed off. Without what? Groping each other in a huge make out session? Fighting? Pining for the other? Pretending that nothing was wrong between them? “Without causing a scene,” she finally finished.

“I’m not worried. He’s just… you know how he is. He doesn’t want to… be the cause of friction.”

“I’ll tell you what I told Dawn. Giles is family and he deserves our love and support and to be a part of things.”

“I agree and it’s sorta what I told him. Kinda. You know, and basically offering a sacrificial lamb into the mix if things get tense for whatever reason.”

Buffy laughed. “Andrew as a peace offering?”

“You know it,” he confirmed and Buffy could practically hear his goofy grin through the phone.

“Thanks, Xand.”

“Hey, no problem, but when you get back, you should give Giles a call and make arrangements to meet up for drinks or something and just… talk.”

Her eyes shot across the Seine to the Louvre again as a sense of longing clutched at her heart. She swallowed and feigned a sense of amusement. “Trying to keep those movie nights from turning into a death match?”

“Well, my money would be on you, but I have to keep the peace and I really don’t want to get Andrew’s hopes up that he might be allowed to watch movies with us.”

She let out a little laugh. “For Andrew’s sake I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, I know Giles regrets the badness between you.”

Her tone turned serious and she closed her eyes against the hurt the conversation had dredged up. “I regret it too.”

“I know. Now, see what you can do to get the French to play ball with us.”

“Hopefully they’ll come to a consensus and fill me in on what they want us to do, if anything. Honestly, I just want to come home,” Buffy replied truthfully. ‘And sleep and ignore the world for a few weeks,’ she thought, but she knew she had to see the deal through and, if her schedule allowed, support Giles at the conference.

As his friend.

Until she could reconcile her heart and her head.

“I get it, Buff. You need some downtime. Look, regardless of the outcome, take a few days to do some sightseeing and don’t worry about things here. I’ve got it covered. And I promise, no Gary Oldman.”

“There better not be a Tom Cruise as Lestat or any other demonic decorations lurking in my office.”

“Nope, don’t worry. Good luck and keep me posted.”

“Will do,” she answered, hearing the click on the other end of the line. Placing her mobile in her purse, she grabbed her things and started to wander down the Seine. Maybe she’d take in some sights while she waited to hear from her French counterparts.


	5. Chapter 5

After enjoying the previous day of lectures and workshops, Giles found himself running late having overslept by an hour, exhaustion having finally caught up with him. He walked briskly into the École du Louvre, navigating the hallways and flashing his credentials as he made his way towards the Rohan Amphitheatre, grabbing a bottle of water and a pastry from the hospitality table before entering the room. Doctor Singh’s lecture on the latest in manuscript preservation techniques was about to start and he needed to find his seat. It was a special interest of his considering his own collection of priceless manuscripts. Silencing his phone, he found his seat, and pulled his notebook and pen from his satchel.

Admittedly, he was distracted. His mind wandered to a certain short, blonde Vampire Slayer cum CEO. She had left him a message earlier that morning while he was in the shower stating that she was finalizing the deal with the French government, that she would be free early in the afternoon, and how she was looking forward to his lecture in the evening.

Giles might’ve just played the recording back more than a few times, analyzing her words and the tone of her voice before coming to the almost incredible conclusion that she was happy to be joining him. He’d returned her call, but it had rung through to her answerphone and he’d left a message congratulating her on the deal, how pleased he was for her, and that he would meet her at their appointed time and place.

Because her voice had uplifted him, he had taken his time putting himself together that morning, styling his hair and shaving as closely as possible without taking a layer or two of skin off with it. He’d paused a moment or two to inspect his handiwork after placing his new pair of frameless rectangular glasses on his face. He’d chosen them after the young female optician had fawned over him as he tried them on. Her approval had been genuine as the first three pairs he’d picked out, she’d dismissed outright.

But it had been his suit that Giles had taken the longest time to fuss with, having visited his tailor Monday afternoon in quest of the right look. Buffy had teased him about her new dress for the occasion when he’d invited her to accompany him, and he wanted to look worthy of having her on his arm, finally deciding on the dark blue windowpane suit with the five button waistcoat. He’d complemented it with a white collared shirt with narrow blue and white stripes and a black and white checked tie. And in preparation, he’d made sure to polish his silver fob watch, press his white pocket square, and had even taken time to shine his black Broxton shoes.

After having checked himself in the mirror, his confidence had soared and he’d felt as though he’d done a fairly credible job at making himself presentable enough to accompany Buffy. But, as the day wore on, the nerves had slowly eaten away at his self assurance, and now he felt rather unsettled as he sat through another talk.

—————

Buffy internally cursed bureaucrats, especially French ones. She understood their concerns at having an outside organization run a quasi militaristic operation on their soil, but she’d absolutely refused to allow them unconditional authority over her people, and after she had stormed out of the meeting room the previous day, her counterparts had been rattled enough to agree to her terms as long as there was a neutral liaison between the parties involved. Appreciating the addition of having a neutral party overseeing matters, she’d immediately acceded, ready to sign on the dotted line. However, they’d wanted to negotiate who the liaison would be prior to finalizing the deal.

Looking at her watch, Buffy bit back her impatience. Another fifteen minutes and she would officially be running late to meet Giles and she still needed to stop by the hotel to freshen up and change. Unfortunately, she couldn’t force the issue so close to the finish line, so instead, she sat back in her chair and reviewed the list of candidates.

Forty minutes later, all parties happily signed the agreement, and within moments of shaking hands with her new partners, Buffy was out the door and in the chauffeured car heading back to her hotel. Thankfully traffic wasn’t too heavy and her hotel wasn’t too far away, but she was in panic mode, knowing she was not going to make her appointed meeting time with Giles.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly dialed his mobile. She let out a distressed whimper as her call went straight through to voicemail. “Giles, I am so, so sorry. The deal is finally done, but I got held up and it took longer than expected. I’m heading back to the hotel now to make myself presentable and I will be there as soon as I can. Don’t wait for me. I have the invitation. I promise I will be there before you go-”

The beep signaling the end of her time interrupted her message and she hung up in disgust, tossing her phone back into her purse just as the car pulled up to the hotel. Not waiting for the driver to get out and open the door, Buffy quickly let herself out and raced through the automatic doors toward the elevators.

—————

Giles' nerves hadn’t gotten any better. He was supposed to meet Buffy at the entrance to the École du Louvre in a few minutes and he stopped by the men’s room and checked his hair and tie in the mirror. Both were in need of a bit of a tidy and he spruced himself up, trying to ignore the uncomfortable flutter in his gut. Making his way back out into the hallway he nervously ran into Doctor Singh, who had presented earlier in the morning.

Not wanting to be rude, Giles took a moment to shake hands and thank him for his lecture on new and innovative ways to store and preserve ancient texts. They exchanged business cards, Giles saying he would definitely be in touch since some of his manuscripts were rather delicate. While he didn’t go into detail, some texts created by nonhumans did not necessarily display the same sort of affinity for leather, vellum, or parchment or various known adhesives used in this dimension, he felt that given Doctor Singh’s experiences with uncommon materials, he might have some insight into how to keep them in top condition.

After the two men had parted, Giles decided to quickly check his phone and found that Buffy had left him a voice message saying she was running late. He tried to suppress his disappointment. She would be there, he told himself as he walked back to the amphitheatre for next lecture on his agenda. He just needed to be patient.

—————

Buffy arrived at the École du Louvre with ten minutes to spare, which was good because she really had no idea where she was going. She rushed through the doors, stopping to speak with a museum employee who greeted her and said that she had been expecting her. The woman had been waiting for her at Giles’ request and led her to the Rohan Amphitheatre by way of the coat check. Considering the Louvre was one of the largest museums in the world, Buffy was grateful for her guide. Once they arrived at their destination, Buffy thanked her for her help and brushed unobtrusively through the auditorium doors.

The hall was dimly lit and there was a lady at the podium giving her lecture. Looking over the sea of heads, she spotted Giles and made her way over to the other side of the auditorium. Unfortunately, the path to the seat beside him was blocked by two portly men, so she slid into the row behind him as stealthily as possible and sat down.

Whatever the speaker was presenting was fascinating for him, because Giles never once shifted his focus from the stage. It amused her how focused he could get, like when he researched some demon cult or something for her - _always_ for her - losing all sense of time until he either found the solution or he was just too exhausted and his neck too stiff to go on. It was one of his endearing qualities, if a bit detrimental to his wellbeing.

From where she sat, Buffy could smell his cologne and she closed her eyes, allowing it to envelop her senses. How she missed the scent of him! And she felt that familiar warm and fuzzy feeling spread through her as she thought of Giles and how he put his whole being into keeping her as safe as possible. When she opened her eyes, he had relaxed back into his seat and she noticed the little curl of hair under his ear - another very endearing and Gilesean thing she loved about him.

And then she quickly berated herself. She hadn’t come to fawn over him. Well, not in that way, anyway, and she repeated her mantra that she was there to support her friend, not compromise her resolve and lose her head and heart over him again.

As the speaker started to wrap up her lecture, Giles straightened his shoulders and tilted his head to the right and left, stretching the muscles in his back and neck and popping the stiff cartilage. Buffy knew he was mentally preparing himself to go on next. It was one of the techniques he used to prepare himself for training with her.

Wanting to let him know she made it, she placed his hand on his shoulder and he startled at the touch before turning his head to see who was looking for his attention. The movement caused her lips to graze his ear as she leaned forward and breathed, “Sorry for being late, but I’m here.”

Giles shivered at the unintentional caress and closed his eyes, placing his hand over hers, suddenly feeling more at ease than he had in months. He gave her hand a light squeeze in acknowledgement before responding just as quietly, “Thank you.”

He didn’t particularly care for the spotlight and it had been years since he had presented a paper at a gathering of minds such as these. In fact, there were people here that he’d never expected to rub shoulders with and he fervently wished that his colleague Allison hadn’t fallen ill earlier in the week, but with Buffy’s presence he felt a shift for the positive in their relationship and it bolstered his overall confidence.

Though she was a bit embarrassed at having accidentally touched his ear with her lips, Buffy played it cool. She winked at him and whispered, “Go get ‘em, Tiger, knock ‘em dead!”

Releasing her hand to politely clap at the end of the talk, Giles gathered his notes and stood up, ready to take his place beside the stage and wait for his introduction. He smiled at her and, with a nod, walked down to the stage.


	6. Chapter 6

The stage lights were bright and even though he couldn’t see out into the audience, Giles felt Buffy’s gaze upon him and he placed his notes on the podium before him, perusing the first couple lines and taking a deep breath.

“Good evening,” he began before turning his attention to the director of the museum. “Thank you, Doctor Michaud, for your hospitality. It is an absolute honor to be here this evening.” Directing his attention back to the audience he continued, “My name is Rupert Giles and I am the director of collections at the Victoria and Albert Museum. I must first apologize that my colleague Doctor Maynard is not available to give her talk this evening. She asked me to convey her regrets and she looks forward to presenting her latest paper at the symposium at the Rijksmuseum in the spring. Now that the formalities are out of the way, let’s begin, shall we?”

Giles pressed the button to advance the slide to the title page  _ Preserving and Safeguarding Artefacts: Determining Importance and Advancing the Narrative. _ Once again he stared down at his notes, unsure of the words on the page. They seemed to make sense alone in his office, and Sir John had certainly given his stamp of approval, but now it all seemed rather dry and impersonal. He didn’t see himself reflected back in his work, and he knew of at least one audience member he was trying to impress - and really, at that moment, her opinion of him was the only one that mattered to him.

Turning his notes over, Giles gripped the sides of the podium with both hands and began, “An artifact isn’t just an object from a time past that we find and then put on display in a museum for a moment of consumption for the casual consumer. No. Every artifact has a story: from the inception of design to its manufacture, to its eventual intended or unintended use, to the archaeologist finding it in some ancient rubbish heap or an individual finding it upon cleaning out their gran’s attic upon her death. More often than not, we tend to look at the purpose of the artifact, what niche it filled, how it was manufactured. If the artifact should be mostly or all intact, then it most likely becomes a coveted museum piece, gawked at by the millions of annual visitors who come through our respective doors… and forgotten by us until it is time for a cleaning or another academic wants to bring it out for study or the exhibit is finished. But, for the most part we have forgotten it and moved on to the next piece. For that is our job: to improve upon our collections.”

He took a drink of water from the glass provided to him by the support staff. “But what if I told you we could improve upon our collections in other ways? Since my early days sifting through dirt on archaeological dig sites and more recently since coming to the Victoria and Albert, I have found myself looking at a piece and wondering what its real story is. What it might have meant to the person who owned it. Why did they purchase it? Was it a gift given to them by someone they loved? Was it passed down to a family member upon that person’s death? The questions go on and on. And as I wander the halls of the V&A, I often find children asking such questions as well, wanting to know more about something that catches their eye. Adults mostly admire the piece and move to the next, but the children ask the questions to which there are seemingly no answers. Nothing on the placards other than what the object is, the materials it is made from, the culture from which it came, and a date to put it into historical context. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to supply a story or two? To answer those questions? Not just for the children, but to provide a narrative for everyone and make the story and the people of that era come alive?

“So the question then becomes, how do we determine which artifacts are significant to go on display? What sort of value does an artifact’s narrative bring to not only us, the academic community, but to the curious child or the adult who might’ve just walked by, admiring its functionality or its beauty?” He stopped to advance to the next slide and clear his throat.

Buffy sat back in her seat, listening to Giles’ rich voice as he continued. Honestly, he could have been reading the phone book for all she cared, she was just happy to be there in his presence after the frenzied negotiations earlier. Lord knows she had sat through enough of his lectures over the years zoning in and out depending on the subject as a smile crept up onto her face when she remembered the one lecture he had to give unable to utter a single sound when the Gentlemen had come to town. That had been an interesting lecture! Of course, she and Xander used to tease him mercilessly about his lack of brevity back in the day, especially during their high school years, but sitting there in the darkened auditorium, listening to him and watching him on stage looking drop dead gorgeous in that immaculate suit, she decided he could be as long-winded as he wanted to be. He was in his element, and he was clearly enjoying himself and engaging with his audience.

Admittedly, it had irked her that he had pursued the role at the V&A instead of coming to work for her. It had felt like yet another rejection, and a way to continue distancing himself from her, but it was clear now, that that was not the case. He was a natural up on the podium talking about something that deeply mattered to him, and sharing his experiences and thoughts on the subject at hand.

Buffy was pulled from her musings when his tone changed, becoming more serious, as he addressed the issue of preservation and how to go about determining the value of a broken artifact. When she looked up, she noticed he was staring in her direction, almost as if he was speaking directly to her.

“As a conservator, you might think one of the pieces is so damaged that the two no longer fit together or perhaps they never fit together in the first place. So you wonder, is it even worth it? Am I adding so much filler that I am creating more issues for the future? You can’t successfully force two broken pieces together. Sometimes they are damaged beyond repair.

“And sometimes the damage might be such that you have to fabricate something new in order to fit those pieces back together and rebuild. And occasionally, in the process, you discover something different, something new, thus changing the narrative. In fact, it  _ must _ change. The artifact becomes more than what it was before.” He then shifted his focus to the screen and advanced to the next slide.

His voice changed again to that of excitement. “For example, we may have created a new preservation technique, or the piece may be the only existing example of a previously undiscovered mode of manufacture and without rebuilding it, we may never have known how that particular artifact was made and what technologies peoples of bygone era may have had. And thus the narrative determines the immense value not only for us, but for the museum visitor as well, which will no doubt spark the imagination of some youngster who will perhaps one day discover the next prehistoric village or an armor making technique we hadn’t previously known about.”

Shaking her head, Buffy couldn’t but help wonder if Giles had been asking  _ her _ those questions. That there was a metaphor there. Of course, she could be reading more into it, inserting their fractured relationship into his lecture since it had been in the forefront of her mind for the better part of a year. But if his intention had been to provoke a dialogue with her, it sounded as if he were struggling with the same questions she was since he had showed back up in her life as they tried to figure out who they were to one another in their post Sunnydale world.

And maybe they were beyond repair. Certainly she had thought so and she had all but given up on the idea of them being together until Giles had made his impassioned plea before she left for California to visit her father and sister. Was their relationship to end up in the historical rubbish heap that was her love life? Was it something that he was now considering?

Her throat constricted as she thought of the possibility of letting him go and she swallowed desperately trying to clear the emotional panic that gripped her in that moment. They could be friends, couldn’t they? She was here for him now. But her feelings were getting in the way. Just sitting behind him earlier had invoked such a strong need to be with him.

She certainly wasn’t friends with Angel. He was an ally now, someone with a shared past that she could look back on with a sense of peace, even though he’d always held onto hope that one day they would be together. That was clear when he had visited her with the amulet right before the final battle with the First. Despite initially being pleased at his presence, she’d found that she had outgrown him. His jealousy and sense of entitlement to her had gotten on her nerves. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been entirely honest with him, and had allowed him to continue to believe in a someday, mostly because she really hadn’t believed that she would survive the coming battle.

But the kind of love she felt for Giles was different to the one she had shared with Angel. It wasn’t a desperate, angsty, all-consuming, forbidden, first love kind of love. It was the forever kind of love: mature, forgiving - almost to a fault, ever bright, and one which, given a chance, would continue to grow. She didn’t want to get lost in him and when he kissed her, she didn’t want to die. Instead, she wanted to live life and all its moments with him in the open, under the sun… and the stars.

But things had to change. Every encounter since she had left Giles’ home back in the winter had ended in disaster, even though both had tried to fix things between them. Both had taken steps to put the past behind them unsuccessfully. So the question he’d posed was, should they give up and let go or should they work together to mend their relationship and find happiness together?

And knowing what her answer to that was, the question Buffy had to ask herself was could she trust herself enough to trust him with her heart?

The applause snapped her from her internal debate before she had a chance to really explore that question in her mind. She watched him scoop up his unused notes and exit the stage as several of his fellow academic types came to greet him. Since Giles had been the keynote speaker, the conference was officially over, though the director of the Louvre would give a closing speech in the reception hall when everyone had a glass of champagne in their hands.

As Giles was unable to break away from his colleagues, Buffy stood up and made her way down to the stage to meet him. 


	7. Chapter 7

Giles was trying to make his way back to his seat when he was swarmed upon from all fronts by several people he had met over the last two days, looking to engage him on a variety of subjects and he suddenly felt overwhelmed. He didn’t want to keep Buffy waiting, but he also had to do his job and make contacts within the community, create bridges. He wasn’t just there to present his paper and leave, he was there to represent the V&A as well. Chewing the inside of his lip, he bit down on his frustration and impatience and engaged in conversation with those around him. Buffy knew where to find him. He hadn’t moved far from the stage.

As Buffy walked down the aisle, she heard someone call her name. “Miss Summers? Buffy?”

She turned in the direction she heard the voice coming from and noticed the tall strapping blond archaeologist with the cleft chin approaching her. “Hi!” And she couldn’t remember his name.

When he caught up with her, he placed his hand on her upper arm, leaned in, and lightly kissed her cheek in greeting. It wasn’t something Buffy was used to quite yet, this European style of greeting. “So uh…”

“Adrian. Adrian Alward.”

Buffy blushed with embarrassment. “Adrian,” she repeated with nervous laughter as she pointed at him. Adrian was curator of the Anglo Saxon collection over at the British Museum she’d met couple weeks back when she’d accompanied Giles as he delivered his latest round of research to him. “I knew that. Adrian. Anglo Saxon guy. Well not Anglo Saxon  _ Saxon _ , although you might be.” She winced. “Just one of those funny out of context things. I certainly didn’t expect to see you here… and I’m babbling. How have you been? How’s the British Museum?”

Adrian smiled. “I certainly didn’t expect to find you here either. I am well thank you and the British Museum is still where I left it earlier this week. What brings you to our fancy party?”

“I’m here with Giles… Rupert. Rupert Giles.” She looked towards the stage, seeing him trapped by a group of people. “They really shouldn’t let me be sociable in this kind of setting.”

He smiled gently and said, “It’s charming, really. If you like we can find some coffee out in the reception hall, and some hors d’oeuvres. Rupert looks as though he’ll be at it for a while.”

“I really should wait for him,” Buffy insisted.

“Of course,” Adrian relented. “I can keep you company, if you like.”

“I appreciate it, but this is a fancy museum conference. You should mingle. A-and there are hors d’oeuvres to be eaten.”

“There are,” Adrian answered with a small smile. He followed her soft gaze down to his former mentor. He had a pretty clear idea of the nature of their relationship now. “Rupert really has a way with them. Every one of them is still enthralled.”

Buffy directed her attention back to her companion. “It was a great speech. I thought it would have been a more dry and technical dissertation sort of thing.”

“I’d thought too, but I think the more personal approach worked well and added gravitas to his argument of making history and its art and artifacts more accessible to the public by way of their stories. Definitely a wonderful way to wrap up the conference.” They stood in awkward silence and Adrian took that as his cue. “Well, Buffy, it was wonderful to see you again, but those hors d’oeuvres are calling my name and it would be rude of me to ignore them.”

Chuckling, Buffy extended her hand and he shook it gallantly. “It was nice to see you again, Adrian.”

“The offer still stands,” he added, “If you would ever like a personal tour of the museum. Bring Rupert along if you like, as far as I know, he hasn’t been by to see the new exhibits.”

“I’d love to, thank you. And I am sure he wouldn’t need much convincing,” she replied.

Adrian had little doubt that he would. “Ah, it looks like the crowd around him is starting to dissipate. Perhaps I will run into you both a little later. Enjoy the evening,” he said gallantly before walking away.

—————

Giles bid goodnight to the last group of people who had come to compliment him on his speech and engage him in discussion. He’d tried to brush them off as politely as he could a few times, but they hadn’t picked up on his cues. When he turned to start back for his seat, he saw Buffy approaching him and he completely lost his power of speech.

She was an absolute vision. Her hair was elaborately plaited, the braids mimicking a golden crown sitting on her head, and she wore a black sheath dress heavily accented with an elegant silver embroidery that was Victorian in design. It came down to just above her knees, had long sleeves and a scoop neckline, and hugged her body without being too tight, and yet moved with her in a way that made his heart race a little faster.

Unsure of how to greet her, Giles gripped his notes in his right hand and gave her a warm smile. “Buffy, you look..” he took a deep breath before finishing, “Stunning.”

She gave him a radiant smile in return and turned around, revealing the dropped back line that tapered to a point just above her waist. “You like?”

He nodded appreciatively, trying not to appear wolfish. “Very much so. And you are in luck, Doctor Feinstein opted for a suit this evening,” he teased, finding more neutral territory.

“Oh good, it would have been embarrassing to show up in the same dress,” she deadpanned as she took his arm and led him back to their seats.

“I am certain you wear it better.”

She laughed. “You certainly have stepped up your game with your tailor, Doctor Giles, I highly approve of your ensemble.”

“Thank you.”

“Ah, yes, you make a striking couple,” Doctor Michaud complimented as he approached Buffy and Giles.

Buffy dropped her hold on Giles arm and looked down at her shoes while Giles blushed to his roots. They weren’t a couple, and he had no idea to respond, so he opted for politeness and said, “Thank you. Doctor Michaud, this is Miss Buffy Summers, my dear friend and CEO of Aegis Securities, an international firm based in London. Buffy, this is Doctor Henri Michaud, Director of the Louvre.”

“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Summers,” he responded as he took her hand warmly and shook it. “I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

“Indeed I am. It’s the first time I’ve been to the Louvre. The school is very impressive.”

“Thank you. I hope you will spend some time in the upcoming days to enjoy the collections in the museum.”

“I am sure I will,” Buffy replied graciously.

Doctor Michaud nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to his fellow academic and handing him a large, overstuffed envelope. “Here are the documents you need for that project we discussed yesterday. Everything should be in order, however, should you need anything clarified, please do not hesitated to ring.”

“I should have the answers for you within the fortnight as agreed,” Giles reassured him.

“It is greatly appreciated, Doctor Giles,” he said with a tight smile, then again he turned towards Buffy. “Please excuse my interruption. It is entirely my fault he has kept you from the reception. Enjoy the evening.”

They watched him leave and as soon as the door shut behind him, they found themselves alone in the amphitheatre.

“Another one of your side projects?” Buffy asked as Giles shoved his notes and the envelope full of documents into his briefcase.

“Yes,” he answered plainly, taking her arm and leading her towards the doors.

“Care to share? Should I be worried?”

Giles gave her an incredulous look. “No, and we are not talking any business tonight. Tonight we celebrate.”

Her eyes lit up. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

—————

After dropping his briefcase off at the coatcheck, Buffy and Giles proceeded to the reception area and loaded up their plates with the most scrumptious hors d’oeuvres either had ever tasted and toasted each other’s successes with champagne. They mingled about the hall, speaking with various members of Giles’ peer group and Buffy noticed that Adrian Alward had struck up a conversation with a beautiful redhead with an alluring smile at the cheese table.

Giles followed her gaze to the young, charismatic museum curator. He’d seen Adrian and Buffy talking earlier when he was fielding questions after his presentation. “Seems like he’s found someone else to chat up,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, shoving his right hand into his pocket

“He’s a flirt, but a harmless one.”

“I saw you speaking with him earlier.”

“Yeah, he said hello and offered to give me a tour of the museum again.”

“Ah,” Giles responded before taking a sip of champagne.

“He suggested I should bring you along.”

“Ah,” he repeated before finding something appropriate to say. “I would like that, actually, If you like.”

“I would. Like.” Buffy sighed and placed her hand on his forearm. “God, Giles, why is this so hard for us? Do you think we could steal away and talk?”

“Rupert!” A voice boomed from behind them.

Giles turned towards the voice and saw a large man approaching with a congenial smile as he proffered his hand in greeting. “Asa,” he greeted, trying to hide the irritation in his voice at being interrupted as he shook the other man’s hand. “Good to see you again, my friend. How have you been?”

“Good, good. And yourself? Lovely presentation, by the way.”

“Thank you. I am doing well. Allow me to introduce you to Buffy Summers. Buffy, this is Asa Feinstein.”

Buffy tried not to laugh. So this was Doctor Feinstein, the gentleman Giles had teased her about mistaking her for if she didn’t disclose what her dress looked like. His tall, heavy frame certainly wasn’t suited for a cocktail dress, and he’d tower over everyone in heels. He was however, impeccably dressed, wearing a nicely tailored suit, his purple tie accentuating the silver streaks in his dark hair. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand.

 

Asa Feinstein took her hand and gallantly kissed the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Summers, but I do have to apologize. I need to speak with Rupert for a few minutes privately.”

  
“Oh, no problem at all. My champagne glass is nearly empty and the dessert table is calling my name.” Her eyes rose to meet Giles’ and he gave her the most apologetic look. She nodded in amusement and went in search of a waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes.


	8. Chapter 8

Giles felt like pulling his hair out. Asa Feinstein wanted to hire him for some translation work. Work that had nothing to do with the occult, just some project Asa was working on and he didn’t have enough skill in Ugaritic Cuneiform to decipher the text he needed. Giles’ own skill was a bit lacking, but because of his extensive experience with Sumerian Cuneiform, his colleague had sought him out. Apparently the urgency was driven by a need to publish in time for the next conference in the spring.

“I don’t really have the time for freelance work at the moment, Asa, but I’ll see what I can do,” Giles said in exasperation.

“Thank you, Rupert, you are indeed a good friend and lifesaver. I’ll send copies of the text to you by email next week.”

“No promises.”

“No, of course not, but as a reminder I’ll need the text back immediately after the holidays.”

“Right,” Giles sighed. “Now, really, I must get back to my… friend.”

“Ah, yes, I am sorry about that, Rupert. Please, pass along my apologies again.”

Giles nodded politely and headed back into the reception hall. He looked around, but couldn’t find Buffy anywhere. Grabbing another glass of champagne, he decided to search the amphitheatre, but found it dark and vacant. After another pass through the reception hall, he started to panic, thinking perhaps she might have left the event. He certainly wouldn’t blame her. He’d spent all of ten minutes of the last two hours with her. Fine host he’d been.

“Excuse me, sir,” a young waiter said in English, garnering Giles’ attention. “If you are looking for your lady friend I saw you with earlier, she walked down the hall and turned right.”

“Thank you,” he said before quickly heading in the same direction.

—————

He finally found her sitting on a bench opposite a statue of a Greek goddess.

“Everything all right?” he asked, taking a seat on the bench next to her.

“Yeah, I just… needed some air,” Buffy answered, her attention on the statue in front of her.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t really been… very attentive.”

“It’s okay, you’re in demand guy. It’s kinda neat to see. I mean you left this life to be my Watcher. It’s kinda nice to see you do something that doesn’t have anything to do with an apocalypse or teenagers.”

“Still, I asked you to join me and I have been negligent,” he said shaking his head. “And it’s all a bit stuffy, this gathering of academic, historian types. I know it’s not your thing. Thank you for coming.”

“It’s not stuffy!” she protested as she turned to look at him. “And I am so happy that I made it here on time to watch you give your presentation. You were really great.”

He gave her a shy smile.

“And your speech… wow. I mean, parts of it… there was so much passion there, Giles.”

Rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, “I don’t know about that.”

“Passion,” she restated. “You really made them think out there… really made  _ me _ think.”

He dropped his chin to look at her over the rim of his glasses and she shifted on the bench under his scrutiny, biting her lip.

“It wasn’t just about artifacts, was it?” she asked hesitantly.

“No it wasn’t,” he answered after sucking in a breath and letting it out rather slowly.

“It was about us,” she said in a hushed tone. “We’re the broken artifact.”

His heart threatened to pound out of his chest and he gave a slight nod, confirming her analysis. When she didn’t reply he opted to give them a lifeline, a way out of the emotional quagmire they were quickly finding themselves in. “It, uh, wasn’t the speech that Sir John approved. I might be out of a job next week.”

Buffy recognized the need for humor and embraced it. “Well, there’s alway your freelance work to fall back on.”

He twisted his body to look at her. “I thought you might offer me that position in your Council again.”

“It’s yours if you want it. You always know that,” she responded gently, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “But it’s not what you want. It’s not who you are anymore and that’s okay.”

His green eyes softened at her understanding. “Thank you.”

“Giles…” she started, before looking down at their hands again. “I’ve been thinking about your speech a lot. Our relationship is an artifact of who we are to each other, but it’s broken because we keep redefining our roles. I mean once we were mentor and student, then friends, and partners. Then we sort of lost our way after I died and came back…”

Not knowing what to say, Giles just squeezed her hand in support.

Buffy looked up after feeling the slight pressure and gave him a sad smile. “And we really haven’t been on track since. But underneath it all, we always had Slayer and Watcher… only we’re not even that anymore. We haven’t been for a long time.”

“No, we haven’t,” he agreed. “Not since the crisis with the First.”

“I could argue even before that, but we somehow managed to work together… mostly.” She shook her head. “We’re getting sidetracked… Giles, I don’t want to keep trying to shoehorn what we do have back into something we created years ago. It doesn’t fit anymore and it’s not working.”

He shifted his body on the bench and cupped her cheek with his free hand. “Neither do I. But I find myself asking, what  _ do _ we have, Buffy? Because whatever it is, it’s not enough for me and neither is what we had before. Not anymore. And as hard as it is to find solid footing around you - and it might be easier to just walk away - I find that I can’t do that. I love you. I don’t want to lose you entirely.”

“I don’t want to lose you either.” She covered his hand with hers and lowered them to her lap. “I love you too, Giles, I do. I  _ still _ do. I don’t want to lose you. These past ten months have been  _ so _ hard. I’ve tried to normalize things, to be friends and to be more if we… and I want…” Buffy sighed audibly in frustration, finally daring to bring her eyes to meet his. “I want to fix us. I just don’t know how. Apologies don’t seem to be enough.”

“We need to redefine what and who we are to one another so that we can rebuild the trust we once had.”

“I do trust you.”

He shook his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Not with your heart anyway. At least that is what you’d said before you left for California.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment. There was still a painful truth to that statement. “I want to trust you with it.”

“But?”

“But… I don’t know how, Giles.” She stood up and walked over to the statue, taking interest in the detached expression of the goddess.

Giles sat on the bench watching her as she struggled internally with what to say, and suddenly he knew just how right Dawn and Xander were. Buffy needed him to show her his sincerity, his commitment to her in order to let herself fully commit to him and their relationship, if they ever were to have one. They could talk circles around their problems with him apologizing a million times and still come to no solution. Buffy was action girl, as Dawn had so eloquently put it. The only way to break from their pattern was for him to change. Now he just needed to be less word guy and more action guy… well maybe a few words guy.

He approached her softly. “Maybe we can find a new role that is appropriate for me,” he said, his voice low.

‘What is he going on about now?’ she wondered. Raising her eyes to the goddess in a plea for silent strength, Buffy turned around to face him. Before she could say anything he shook his head requesting that he be allowed to continue and she raised an eyebrow in question.

“I know of any no other way to convince you to trust me again other than to show you…” Taking her hand, he dropped to one knee. “Buffy Summers, would you do me the  _ greatest  _ honor of becoming your husband?”

She stared at him, wide eyed with disbelief, and though it scared him that he might be making a critical error in judgment, he decided to trust his instincts when he felt her tighten her grip on his hand.

Breathing in deeply for courage, he continued, “I want to face life and all its surprises with you. Whatever you want, I too, desire. I want to wake up to your smile every morning and fall asleep with you in my arms every night. I want to soothe your pain and never,  _ ever _ again be a source of it.

“We started our journey almost a decade ago as Watcher and Slayer and my devotion to you has never waned. Now I find myself hopelessly in love with you. I promise that this new path - our life together - will begin and end with you. Always. Marry me, Buffy.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered almost disbelievingly. Bringing her steepled fingers to rest against her lips, Buffy swallowed the lump of emotion that threatened to spill from her eyes. As unconventional as things were normally for them, she certainly hadn’t expected him to get down on bended knee and propose marriage. And definitely not in the hallowed walls of the Louvre, although, on quick reflection, that somehow seemed very Giles.

Though platonic for most of their acquaintance, their relationship had always had a deep intimacy about it: full of happy times, triumphant victories, extraordinary moments, moments of profound love, and also of intense pain. And they’d shared the mystical bond of destiny and fate. But destiny had changed eighteen months ago with the closing of the Hellmouth and the activation of the new Slayers, and so had their bond, allowing for the exploration of something more between them. Even the long months of darkness hadn’t been able to extinguish the intimacy that burned deep within.

His impassioned proposal had definitely caught her off guard. That Giles would promise himself to her, not out of some sacred duty, but because he loved her and wanted to be with her had completely torn down the walls she’d attempted to raise around her heart. His face held earnestness and trepidation as his love for her reflected in his eyes, and her expression changed from profound disbelief to that of pure elation as she dropped her hands and her smile reached her eyes, allowing the tears to spill down over her lashes and down her cheeks.

“Yes!” Buffy finally declared and he rose up from his spot on the ground and met her in a tight embrace, picking her up and twirling her around like a man half his age, laughing in joy and relief.

She held onto him, never wanting to let go, her face buried in the crook of his neck, his natural scent mingling with his cologne, producing a heady affect amidst the euphoria of emotions she was currently experiencing.

Giles gently set her down and cradled her face between his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” she repeated, her smile reaching her tear filled eyes.

“I can scarcely believe it,” he murmured, searching her face for any trace of doubt.

“Neither can I,” she answered just as breathily. “I love you.”

Resting her forehead against hers, he swallowed thickly trying to keep the heavy emotions at bay. “God, Buffy, I love you. I’m so sorry for everything-”

“Shh. This is our beginning. I said yes,” she interrupted with a little laugh before pulling his lips to hers and drawing him into an impassioned kiss. It was a homecoming for both of them, having both felt adrift at sea for so long.

When the kiss came to a natural end, Giles pulled a ring box from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the most delicate oval cut sapphire and diamond ring she had ever seen.

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed, wondering at the timing of his proposal.

He pulled the platinum engagement ring from the box and gently placed it on her finger. “And yet its radiance is completely eclipsed by your beauty,” he said, his eyes holding hers in adoration as he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the knuckle just above the ring.

“Mademoiselle, Monsieur, l'école est sur le point de fermer,” a security guard called to them as he entered the room. “Si vous voulez bien vous diriger vers la sortie.”

“Oui, bien sûr, nous partons tout de suite. Merci,” Giles replied, shifting his attention to the guard.

Buffy leaned her forehead against Giles’ chest. “I take it we aren’t supposed to be here?” she said with a hint of amusement.

“He’s telling us that the school is closing and it is time to leave,” he translated loosely as he brought her hand down to their sides.

“I don’t want the evening to end,” she said with a sigh as they walked back towards the coat room.

“It doesn’t have to,” Giles answered with a tender smile as he looked down at her. “We are in the City of Light after all.”


	9. Chapter 9

The newly engaged couple walked across the bridge over the Seine with arms wrapped around each other and followed the river for several blocks before finding a café-bar that was open late. Though the night was clear, the winter wind bit through their coats and Buffy, who wasn’t dressed for exploring the city by foot, had called for a quick stop to warm up. The café was small, intimate, and inviting, and the only other customers in the place was an elderly couple sitting near the opposite wall, completely wrapped up in their conversation. After Buffy and Giles took a seat on the banquette at a table along the far side of the room, a waiter took their order and brought them two café noisettes before leaving them in peace.

“It’s a perfect fit,” Buffy noted as she gazed at the ring on her finger.

Taking her hand in his and running his thumb over the ring on her finger he said, “I had hoped. It was a guess, albeit an educated one.”

“I can’t believe you planned this,” Buffy said incredulously, dropping his hand as she took a closer inspection of the ring. “I mean… considering how things have been.”

“I didn’t plan it exactly,” he answered before taking a sip of his coffee.

“So you just walked into a jewelry store, picked out a ring you liked and carried it around in your pocket because it’s a thing to do?” She suddenly had an uncomfortable thought and slipped the ring from her finger. “Or did this belong to Karina and you just happened to have it on you?”

“No, no. It’s not Karina’s, I assure you. Her mother has her rings,” Giles answered, suddenly not quite so at ease as he shifted to look at her. “And I didn’t just happen by a jewelry shop and decide to buy an engagement ring.” His voice had taken on a slight defensive tone.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t have done either. But given your attitude on marriage, I have to say I am a bit surprised you asked me to marry you.”

Giles took a deep breath. “I said some awful things that morning, Buffy, none of which reflect how I view marriage should be,” he admitted as he shifted his gaze to the elderly couple who just received a huge ice cream confection to share. “It’s just… complicated.”

Placing the ring down on the table, Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably and turned her attention out the window to watch another waiter as he set the chairs on top of the tables on the terrace.

Giles looked down at the ring and swallowed. “We need to talk about this if we are going to make this work, Buffy,” he said softly.

“I know,” she replied thickly, returning her attention back to him. “It's just it’s all kind of painful still.”

“I feel it just as keenly, I assure you. But you have to know, the fortnight you spent with me was perhaps the most content I’d been my entire life. Being together felt very natural and I didn’t want you to leave.”

“And yet…“

“And yet…” he took a deep breath and trained his eyes on hers, hoping he could vocalize all the confusion, all the pain, all the emotional turmoil, but sighed and looked away instead. “I don’t want to make excuses, Buffy.”

“Then don’t,” she stated a little harsher than she’d intended.

Giles nodded and eyed his espresso, wishing it was something stronger while he attempted to explain his actions. “After Karina was killed and I made my escape, I buried the newly realized feelings I had for you since there just wasn’t any time to analyze them. With the new crisis, we didn’t have the luxury to really talk or find our way and work together, which caused us to fall out of sync again, unable to see eye to eye on how to handle the threat of the First, much less work through domestic and family issues. Despite neither of us seeming to trust the other, we managed to defeat the First, and, that night after you healed me, I woke to find you in my bed. We found comfort in each other, fought yet again, found an understanding, and I left in the morning. We never talked about it, and I filed it away as nothing more than an affirmation of being alive because neither of us had dared think we would survive that apocalypse.”

“No… I certainly didn’t,” Buffy replied, looking over at the elegant old lady across the room. She and her husband were a handsome couple, dressed for an evening out at the opera or perhaps the ballet, and she watched as the man gave his wife a spoon and indulgently looked on as she dug it into the large glass before them, surprising him as she offered him the first taste.

Giles’ followed her gaze to the elderly figures across the room. They reminded him of his grandparents, married sixty-five years and inseparable until death. His eyes immediately fell on the neglected ring on the table and he picked it up and placed it in the pocket of his waistcoat for safe keeping.

When she looked back at him, Buffy noticed the pensive look on his face as he pocketed the ring. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out after all. Giving him a tight smile, she announced, “I could totally do some damage to a Napoleon right now.”

She was stalling. Which was fine. He needed a few moments to think. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried apologizing and explaining his actions before. She just hadn’t been ready to deal with their issues, instead choosing to move forward, the hurt having been too great to overcome. He knew he would need to be sincere and tread lightly. He signaled for the waiter and she ordered the confection.

Noting the impressed look on his face at her near perfect pronunciation of mille-feuille, Buffy explained with amusement, “After four years of struggling through high school French, I can’t hold or follow a conversation, but I sure can order food like a Parisian.”

“We remember the important things,” he supplied supportively. “I can ask where the toilets are in twenty languages. Fat lot of good it does me in Sumerian.”

Buffy laughed at his dry delivery and leaned into him and Giles took another sip of his espresso, quite pleased with result of his effort. The waiter brought the confection back to their table with two forks and Buffy tucked into it with vigor.

“You’re like bloody Wellington dismantling that Napoleon,” Giles observed in mock horror.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“I’m impressed.”

She looked up at him with a pleased grin. “Told ya I was hungry. I really hadn’t eaten anything since lunch time, except a few hors d’oeuvres at the reception.”

“Had I known, we could’ve found a restaurant.”

“But dessert is so much better. Want a bite? It’s like eating a sweet cloud.”

Buffy held up her fork in offering and he couldn’t resist, closing his eyes in delight as the pastry and cream hit his tongue.

“That is sublime.”

“The French know their pastry, that’s for sure. I should’ve moved headquarters to Paris,” she mused.

“No.” Giles glanced down at her, his mood turned serious. “I’m glad you are in London.”

“Me too.” Her eyes met his and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Are we ever going to get past this, Giles?” she asked sadly, pushing the empty plate towards the center of the table.

“God, Buffy,” he said thickly. “I dearly hope so.”

“So why, after I told you that I loved you, would you push me away? Even if you didn’t feel that same, that was cruel.”

“I know, I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” he answered, shaking his head in disgust with himself before pausing a moment to collect his thoughts. “When I came home to find you asleep on my sofa last winter, I certainly wasn’t expecting to fall into bed with you again, especially not after how awkward dinner was…” He trailed off and dragged a hand through his greying hair. “We found passion and comfort again in each other, only to have the morning after shadowed by your natural curiosity and my late wife’s ghost - figuratively speaking.” They shared an understanding look at his clarification, knowing that the Hellmouth would haunt them still for some time to come.

“It was clear then that something that was supposed to be uncomplicated was in danger of becoming more, and I clearly wasn’t ready for that. Feelings I had suppressed started rushing to the forefront and I was relieved when you called a halt to that side of our relationship. However, even though we weren’t… intimate, we were growing closer and I found myself falling in love with you-“

“But you’d said you were already in love with me,” Buffy interrupted.

“Yes, but you see, upon Karina’s death it had simply been a realization, I’d never experienced the sensation of falling in love with you. Suddenly, we were spending all our time together and I held you in my arms every night. We cooked together, did other chores, and spent quiet moments quite content in each other’s company when we weren’t having discussions about any and all subjects… I can’t quite explain it, only that I could feel myself falling further every day and that it felt so very right…” He blew out a breath and ran his hand over his neck. “But there was a part of me that knew it was still very wrong, because it brought forth all the guilt surrounding my marriage and Karina’s death.”

“I get that,” Buffy sympathized, placing a hand on top of his in support. “I tried dating my senior year after sending Angel to hell, but there was too much guilt and baggage. I needed more time to mourn. Then he came back and the guilt was worse.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, he answered, “I never meant to trivialize your experiences, Buffy, before… when we had that nasty row.”

“I know, sometimes we can’t see past our own hurts. Lord knows, I am guilty of that.”

He nodded his acknowledgment before he continued. “After you died my life was in an upheaval and I didn’t know where I belonged. I was so lost without you and when you came back, I was still lost and I could do nothing to ease your burden, so I returned to London thinking it was the only way to help you and eventually find my footing again. Karina helped navigate me through those rough patches and gave me a sense of belonging. But deep within, I felt it wasn’t going to work. When she died and I could only think of you, I knew it never would have. I felt horrible and that I owed her. She’d done so much for me. It was a heavy burden to bear, that guilt, but I couldn’t share it.”

“Giles-“

He stopped her with a slight shake of his head. “Please know that I am so sorry for all the hurt I put you through whilst I was punishing myself. I know I can never say it enough-”

The elderly couple rose from their seats as they got ready to leave, drawing Buffy and Giles’ attention away from their conversation again. The gentleman helped his wife with her coat and once she was ready, he pulled on his overcoat and adjusted his scarf to help ward off the cold winter wind. He stood very tall, his posture perfect despite being in his early eighties. They called out their goodbyes to the staff, clearly regulars of the establishment, and the man placed a steadying hand on his wife’s elbow as he followed her out the door before taking her arm in his and heading off down the street.

Buffy sighed longingly watching them go. Upon taking on her role as head of the new Council, she knew that she now had her whole life ahead of her, but it had never quite occurred to her that that life - _ her life _ \- could extend into old age. And she wanted nothing more than to share it with Giles.

“Penny for them,” Giles said gently.

She smiled. “They sorta restore your faith in humanity. I mean, how long do you suppose they’ve been together?”

“Sixty years or so, I would imagine,” he answered.

“Sixty years,” she stated in wonder. “My parents didn’t make it past fifteen. Although I guess that probably is a record by LA standards.”

“My parents made it to fifty-two and my grandparents to sixty-five.” He took a deep breath and sought her eyes. “Despite the things I said, I believe in marriage, Buffy. I grew up watching two of the greatest love stories unfold in my parents and grandparents. I learned that the fairytale doesn’t stop at the wedding, but continues well into the twilight years. I believe in that and I believe we can have that happily ever after.” He took her left hand in his and ran his thumb over the area the engagement ring had sat on her finger as he searched her eyes, willing her to take his words to heart. “I can’t promise you sixty years or even fifty, but I can promise you all the rest of mine if you still want them.”

Touched by his declaration, she placed her free hand on his cheek, the look in her eyes tender and full of love. “Do you think after all this, I could let you go now?”

He closed his eyes in relief and brought her hand up to his lips, brushing the back with the most reverent of kisses. When he opened them, he found a lone tear had fallen from her eye and he gently brushed it away.

Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, he pulled out the ring and reverently slipped it onto her finger. “The stones are from a necklace my grandfather gave to my grandmother on their wedding night. It was left to me upon her death and I’ve carried it with me all these years as a way to stay connected to my family. The setting was damaged some time ago, so I had them reset into this ring earlier in the week…  _ your _ ring.“

“So you did plan it,” she stated with emotion, the symbolism washing over her.

“A little,” he confessed with a smile. “You are my family, Buffy. With you I am home and I want to be those things to you. I promise to never give you reason to leave again.“

Buffy searched his soft green eyes. If she had any doubts left, he’d just annihilated every last one of them. “No more farewells, Giles,” she whispered vehemently.

“No more,” he echoed in agreement.


End file.
